


Breakfast at Little Annie's

by Edge_of_Clairvoyance



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Family, Family Fluff, Gen, Normal Life, POV Outsider, Pre-Series, Slice of Life, Teen Dean Winchester, Teenchesters, Weechesters, Young Dean Winchester, Young Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-26
Updated: 2017-10-26
Packaged: 2019-01-23 12:20:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12507288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Edge_of_Clairvoyance/pseuds/Edge_of_Clairvoyance
Summary: The first customers of the day walk into Little Annie's - a tall, dark-haired man in a leather jacket and two young boys. Just a normal family breakfast at a small-town diner.





	Breakfast at Little Annie's

**Author's Note:**

> The title is a nod to "Breakfast at Tiffany's", of course.

Sue-Anne checked on the coffee that had just finished brewing, poured some into a cup and moved the pot from the coffee machine onto the warming plate. The smell was fantastic; she delighted in it, especially now, when it was the dominant scent in the diner, as there waren't yet orders to be cooked and take over with smells of baking, frying and roasting.

People often asked Sue-Anne why she bothered opening the diner at five o'clock every morning; even the earliest birds in town didn't come looking for breakfast until six thirty or seven, and anyway, there was an all-night truck-stop on the interstate that was more than enough for whoever needed coffee or a sandwich at odd hours, and was much more accessible than her diner if you traveled by the I-74. And Clay got paid, of course, even if he had no orders to cook and spent his time napping or reading dirty magazines.

She always answered that she was already so used to getting up early, even if it had been years since she needed to get little kids ready for school, and there was no way for her to start her day any later. It was the truth, but not all of it.

The other half of the truth was that she just loved those early morning hours. She loved the clean, crisp air, the first chirps of the birds, the special quality of the light before it became cruel. At those hours the world was new, unchared, filled with promise of all it could be. And every day, when she set out on her way to the diner, the freshness of it all washed her soul clean.

And there was the first coffee. She brought the cup under her nose and savored the smell, then took a sip. Perfect. The truck-stop had nothing on Little Annie's Diner when it came to this.

She gazed up at the sound of the door swinging open. A tall, dark-haired man in a brown leather jacket walked in, followed by two boys. He saw her and nodded, then chose one of the booths and sat down facing the entrance, while the boys took their seats opposite of him with the older one ushering the younger into the seat between him and the wall. Sue-Anne grabbed the coffee pot and a couple of menus and headed for their table.

"Morning, folks," she said cheerfully as she layed the menus down and filled the man's cup. "Can I start you off with some drinks?"

"Good morning," the man said. "Coffee for me. Boys, orange juice?"

"Yeah, thanks," the older boy smiled up at her. He looked to be about thirteen or fourteen, with spiky blond hair, green eyes and a face that in a few short years was going to turn ladies' heads, and probably some gentlemen's as well.

"Can I have tea today, Dad? My throat feels a little itchy," the younger one was talking so quietly she hardly made it out. He was nine or ten – might have been eight for all she could tell, he looked very small in his oversized hoodie – and had doe-eyes set in a sweet little face that was, sadly, party hidden behind golden-brown bangs.

"Sure, honey," Sue-Anne didn't need to jot it down. "I'll be right back with the drinks and take down your order." She filled the man's cup again – he had downed half of it already, no cream or sugar – and headed for the counter.

When she got back with the boys' drinks, the man and the older boy were going over the menus. The younger boy looked at it over the older one's arm, but didn't seem all that interested.

"You know what you want to have?" The father asked. "And no hamburgers, Dean. Get breakfast food."

"Where does it say that hamburger isn't a breakfast food?" The boy retorted, and the man drew his eyebrows together. "Fine, got it, no hamburgers. Can I have bacon and eggs with some sausage? And a french toast?"

The father nodded at Sue-Anne. "I'll have bacon and eggs, too, and some plain toast, please."

"Sammy, look, they have chocolate-chip pancakes," Dean tilted the manu and pointed it out for the other boy. "Sounds good to you?"

"I guess," Sammy glanced at the menu and then coughed a little and reached for the tea, but Dean got to it first. He dipped the tea bag in the boiling water, stirred in some sugar from the shaker and then pushed the cup in front of Sammy.

"It's hot, you need to wait a bit. So how about the pancakes? Can you maybe put banana in them?" The last question was directed at Sue-Anne.

"No problem."

"Awesome, thank you," he flashed her a charming smile, and she smiled back.

"Anything else?" They shook their heads. "Call me if you need a refill there, sir. I have a whole pot freshly brewed." He gave her a smile that clearly showed where Dean got his charm from, and she headed for the kitchen.

Sue-Anne passed the order to Clay – she had to go into the kitchen to shake him awake and then repeat the order twice before he remembered he was supposed to actually do something with it – and settled at the end of the counter.

She didn't pick that spot at random; from there she could both see her only customers in the diner, and hear them clearly thanks to the way sound carried around the place. To the customers, on the other hand, she would seem to be far enough so they wouldn't even suspect she could hear them. It's not that she was the nosey type, but there was, after all, not much else to do at this time, and the little family sparked her interest. Okay, so maybe she was a bit nosey. But just a tiny bit.

"He's not going to make it in time, you know," Dean said as Sue-Anne pretended to busy herself with filling napkin dispensers.

"Oh, for the love of God," the man groaned.

"He's not, Dad."

"Paul will meet us tonight like we planned, and even if he doesn't, you're not coming on the job with me."

"But I can help you, it's a simple salt-'n-burn, you said so yourself."

"We are not having this discussion again."

"Look, I checked, okay? If he was still not finished with the job in Stronghurst when he called you last night, then even if he was done by morning, which is a big if-"

"I said, we are not having this discussion."

"And suppose he didn't take a nap, he would have to get on interstate 34 in order to get on the I-74, and that would take him-"

"Enough, Dean."

"But-"

" _Dean_ ," there was a little rattle when the father put his cup back on the saucer.

The boy dropped his eyes. "Yes, sir."

A few moments passed in silence, as each of them busied himself with his drink. The father drank the last of his coffee, and then raised the cup to get Sue-Anne's attention. She grabbed the pot and went to the table.

"Your food's almost out, a few more minutes," she said. "Is that okay?"

"It's fine, thanks."

"You're just passing through?"

"We spent the night here."

"At 'The Red Pine'? It's a nice motel," it figured; they'd either had to stay at the Pine or drive all night to get to the diner so early in the morning.

"Yeah, it was nice."

"On a business trip?"

"Got to be in Olingford by tonight for a job."

"Good thing you set out early, then. What kind of a job do you do, if you don't mind me askin'?"

There was a glitter in his hazel eyes, and the corners of his mouth curled a little. "Extermination and pest control. The really big, nasty bugs."

Sue-Anne could see Dean smirking at that while sipping the last of his orange juice. "You want a refill on that, sugar? No charge."

"I'd like that, ma'am, thank you," he handed her the glass.

"Aren't your boys just so well-mannered! You don't see that much these days, I tell you," she glanced over at Sammy to see if he needed a refill too; the child was holding his cup with both hands and sipping slowly, so she let him be and turned her head as she heard Clay ringing his bell. "Oh, your food's up."

The appetizing smells made the customers raise their heads even before she was close enough for them to see the plates. And when she set them on the table, delighted smiles broke on their faces.

"It looks great," Dean commented.

"It is. There are plenty of things you can say about Mr. Clayton Burnaby Jr. over there, and I say most of them to his face, mind you, but the man knows his pans. Enjoy your breakfast, folks."

She returned to her post by the counter and watched as the trio happily dug into their food. Dean was eating with such devotion that Sue-Anne found herself grinning, and an amused expression was on his father's face when he looked up at him occasionally over the table. He himself ate slower, but with apparent pleasure, pausing now and then for another sip of coffee.

When Sue-Anne checked to see how Sammy was enjoying his chocolate-chip-banana pancakes, she noticed he had hardly touched them and was now back to nursing his tea. Her brow creased, and she was considering whether she should say anything about it, when Dean glanced over at his brother's plate.

"What's up, little dude? You didn't even finish one pancake. Don't like 'em?"

"They're fine."

"You want me to cut it for you?"

"No, it's okay."

"So what, not hungry?"

"Not really. You can have it if you want."

Dean's smile was gone now. "You can't not be hungry, Sammy, you hardly had any dinner last night." He turned in his seat so he could look the younger boy over. Sue-Anne noticed he was feeling Sammy's face with the back of his hand, the way an experienced parent would. "He's warm," he mumbled to his father.

The father dug his hand into his pocket. "Go get the thermometer from the med kit."

"It broke last week, don't you remember I told you we needed to get a new one?" Dean looked at Sammy, and then around, as if trying to figure out some MacGyver-style solution. Sue-Anne moved forward.

"Can I help with something?"

"You wouldn't happen to have a thermometer lying around, would you, ma'am?"

"As a matter of fact, I do," as a family-friendly diner that served its fair share of children – especially on Sundays when hordes of hungry church-goers came to tend to their earthly needs after satisfying their spiritual ones – Sue-Anne kept a variety of useful items, from safety pins and aloe-vera gel to band-aids and nail-clippers, and even a few pacifiers. She got the thermometer, washed it with soapy water, and brought it over to the table.

Dean put it in Sammy's mouth, made sure the boy was holding it properly, and then reached for the keys his father put on the table. "I'll get the Tylenol from the car."

"You don't know yet if he has a fever."

"He does. I'll just get it in the meantime."

He was back with the bottle even before the man took the thermometer out of Sammy's mouth. "A hundred point nine," he said with a sigh. Dean's face grimaced.

"Sam, were you feeling sick yesterday, too?"

Sammy looked up at him, nodded and looked away.

"Why didn't you say something?"

"Because you really wanted to go with Dad on that job tonight, and… and if you found out I was sick you'd have to stay with me," he was nearly whispering. "I didn't want you to be upset that you couldn't go because of me."

Sue-Anne watched Dean as he looked at Sammy, and the love she saw in his face was so fierce, that she knew without a doubt he would do anything for his little brother, even sell his soul to the devil himself.

"Do you really think I care about some stupid job more than I care about you?" He asked softly. Sammy didn't raise his eyes, and Dean sat down beside him and slid his arm around the boy's shoulders. "Because I don't. Okay?"

Sammy pressed against him and nodded. Dean smiled, a tender little smile.

"Besides, Dad doesn't let me go out with him anyway, so there. Now you can be sick all you want, dude."

Sammy looked up at him, saw his brother's smile, and smiled back. Dean hugged him a bit tighter for a minute and then let go so he could open the bottle of Tylenol.

"You need to take one of these. Got any tea left there?"

"Here," Sue-Anne set down the glass of water she brought while Dean was fetching the Tylenol. She looked up at the boys' father.

"There's a doctor's office in town, but Dr. Hynnes won't be back from her vacation until tomorrow. You can stop by the clinic on Glyndale, that's on your way to Olingford, just two hours' drive away. But would you like my advice, having raised five kids?" The man glanced at his sons, then back at her and nodded. "All Sammy has right now is a bit of a fever and a little cough. Every doctor's gonna tell you the same: it's probably just a virus, give him Tylenol and fluids and let him rest. All of this you can do while you drive for your job. And if by the time you get to Olingford tonight he wouldn't get better, you'll have no problem finding a walk-in clinic there. Do you have a thermos flask? I'll fix you some tea to take with you."

"I… yeah, sure, we have one," he said, looking a bit overwhelmed. Dean got to his feet.

"I'll get it," he said. Sue-Anne watched him walk out and again turned to the father and smiled.

"I don't think there's anything to worry about. Children have fevers all the time, usually it's nothing serious. And it seems you have an excellent young man there to help you take care of Sammy."

The father looked through the glass door out at the parking lot, and then at Sue-Anne. His expression had eased and softened, as did his voice. "Yes, yes I do."

Shortly afterwards, Sue-Anne was leaning against the door frame and watching as her first customers of the day climbed into a black Chevrolet. It was of some old model, but looked clean and very well-kept. Dean got into the back seat with Sammy, and Sue-Anne could see him settling the younger boy down, probably so he could sleep during the drive. Their father twisted back in the driver's seat toward them, exchanged some words with Dean, and then twisted back to the wheel. He noticed her standing there, smiled and raised his hand. Dean saw it, and he too gave her a little wave.

Sue-Anne waved back and then just stood there, her eyes following the black car until it rolled out onto the street and disappeared behind the next block.

She thought about the slices of people's life she glimpsed at the diner; some were sad, some were happy, most were somewhere in between. She often wondered what became of those people, did they get to live happily ever after? In the early morning air, still clean and fresh, and with the morning light still merciful, she hoped that this would be the case for Dean and Sammy.

She hoped with all her heart.

**Author's Note:**

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End file.
